


step into my dreams (i can't stand to sleep without you)

by NightChanghes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel!Castiel, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Dreams, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flower Crowns, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Quote: Angels are watching over you. (Supernatural), cas is a flower he really really is a soft bby flower, im sorry jacks not in here i just dont know how to write him :/, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 09:36:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18808516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightChanghes/pseuds/NightChanghes
Summary: Castiel had been secretly watching over Dean for years. He would filter Dean's dreams, keep out the nightmares, keep him sleeping well because everyone knows a good hunter needs a good slumber. One night, warding appears around Dean's room. Castiel doesn't understand why Dean's keeping him out, there's nothing inherently wrong with watching your charge sleep.





	step into my dreams (i can't stand to sleep without you)

**Author's Note:**

> lol i titled this bc i keep seeing memes abt this type of title on tumblr, so laugh or enjoy the whimsy, whatever-- it is or isn't as ironic as u want it to be. ;P
> 
> as usual, if u notice any fuck ups, please let me know! or if you like it! let me know! or if you hate it, let me know!

Castiel had never found anything inherently wrong with watching Dean sleep.  Mary had always told Dean that angels were watching over him, so, it shouldn’t have made a difference when there actually was one, but Dean had startled when he found Cas sitting at the foot of his bed and had quickly shooed him away.

After that, it became tradition for Castiel to watch over Dean without revealing his position. He felt a bit guilty, going against Dean like this, but how could something so pure ever feel wrong?

Dean, the righteous man, deserved to be looked after and cared for. If Castiel also stayed just to watch the rise and fall of the hunter’s chest or the small flutter of his eyelashes when he was just beginning to stir from sleep, that was his business.

Until, suddenly, it wasn’t.

It was after a long hunt and Dean was turning in, Castiel following him to the doorway to say goodnight. Dean had smiled at him, ‘Night Cas.’ and quietly shut the door when Cas had turned to leave. This was their usual routine, and after a few moments, Castiel would flutter into the room and take up his post on a chair in the corner.

On this night, however, Castiel could sense something off, but he didn’t want to admit it to himself, even if it had come to pass. With that, Castiel disappeared into the other plane, the one that hosted his wings, and spiraled towards Dean’s room. He hit the wall that he could usually flit past and the pain that followed was immense. He cried out, glad no one on Earth could hear him and fell to the floor, returning to his vessel’s state, feeling limp and broken.

Dean had warded his room against angels.

Castiel wondered if Dean knew of his little ritual, if he could sense Cas there all along, or if it was just another one of Dean’s protections.

Still, he slouched in the hall, throbbing pain fading slowly. Castiel pressed his palms to his eyes and held back tears. Eventually, he stood, walked to the kitchen and sat alone, staring ahead and mindlessly picking at some cookie shaped cereal Dean had left out the other day when they had picked up an urgent case and had to leave in a hurry ( _why do humans like miniature versions of everything?)_.   

In fact, Castiel didn’t even know when he would have had time to set up such intricate warding, but then again, it was Dean, and when he set his mind to it, anything was possible. Even locking an angel out of his room.

Some time passed before Castiel was startled out of his trance by the sound of pattering footsteps coming from the hall. Dean almost never woke from sleep so Castiel expected Sam and stayed where he was, looking more disheveled than ever.

Instead, Dean entered the room, eyes red and hair a mess like he had been running his fingers through it incessantly. His heavy lids lightened upon seeing Castiel and he started, ever so slightly.

“Oh hey Cas, sorry, forgot you do this,” he mumbled, motioning in the general vicinity of the angel, “‘M just getting some water.”

Cas nodded, “Is everything all right, Dean?”

Dean held the glass he had retrieved from the cabinet against his chest and went to the sink to fill it, “Don’t wanna interrupt whatever... angels do at night.”

“It’s all right, I’m just looking back on the day and processing the hunt. Thinking.”

With the flow of the tap finally ceasing, Dean and his nearly overfilled glass slid into the place at the table right across from Cas, who gave him a once over to see if there was anything physically wrong.

Dean cleared his throat, “Hey, eyes up here, buddy.”

Cas just huffed an apology and brought his eyes to meet Dean’s.

“So?”

“Just had a bad dream is all. Kept thinking about mom and hell and, well, pretty much everything I’ve ever gone through was just there, swirling in my head. It was so vivid, I could almost smell the burning and the blood and the sulfur.” Dean sighed, his brows furrowed and his eyes looked to the glass in his hands, “It was hard to escape, but I woke myself and now I’m here and I’m not really even thirsty.”

Cas looked at Dean and his heart hummed with sadness and longing and worry. Cas had always been there to keep those nightmares at bay, had always formed a wall between him and them, but Dean didn’t know and the offering of a solution would likely bring up a whole slew of other issues. ( _‘Privacy Cas!!’_ )

He just shook his head earnestly and gazed at the unkempt man before him. “It’ll be all right. Our memories are the most powerful catalysts of dreams. I could implant one if you’d like?”

“Uh, implant what, exactly?”

Cas just smiled softly at Dean’s nervous curiosity, “Just a memory, a dream, a temporary Heaven.”

Dean took a sip of his water and upon setting the glass back down asked, “Does it hurt?”

“Not a bit, but it will wear off without me there to keep you in suspension, so you’ll have to go right to sleep when I do this.”

Dean looked apprehensive, but he trusted him, and so he nodded and leaned his forearms on the table, moving closer to Castiel. Castiel rubbed his fingertips together, softly, until they began to glow. He placed the pads of his fingertips around Dean’s temples and resisted the urge to rub slow circles into his hair. He waited, giving Dean a dream of family and apple pie and peace.

Dean’s eyes, which had been trained on Cas’ face before that, gently closed, content with the warmth his angel’s hands provided.

He sighed, a smile tugging at his lips, his mind blank, save for his thoughts about Castiel’s fingers against his skin, until everything was suddenly cold and Castiel was looking at him with curiosity.

Castiel looked run down, his eyes dropping to his hands which had found their place folded in his own lap, “You should go now.” He said, and Dean was reminded that Castiel was an _angel_ no matter how human he seemed sometimes. He was just doing his job; providing a service to a human in need.

Even Castiel was taken aback by the cold tone that rushed through his lips, so he softened when he saw Dean’s smile drop and spoke again. “Sleep.”

When the sun finally rose in the morning, after a night that Castiel was convinced had more hours in it than usual, Sam sauntered into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Hey Cas, thanks man,” raising his mug in praise for making the coffee.

Castiel acknowledged the thanks and took a brief pause, waiting for Sam to grab some yogurt from the fridge and sit down across from him. “Have we got any cases?”

“It’s quiet out there. But maybe it’ll be nice, you know, have a day or two off, get some rest.”

“Rest. Yes. That. Lots of rest.” Dean’s gruff morning voice rumbled through the morning small talk as he entered and poured himself coffee, scooting into the table beside Castiel.

“Good Morning, Dean. How did you sleep, after?”

“Y’know Cas, I slept well for about an hour after you used your angel mojo or whatever on me, but it didn’t last.”

“Dean. You know you could have come back out to the kitchen and I would have helped you.”

Sam looked quizzically at the two, “The kitchen?”

“Um, yeah? What’s it to you, Sam?”

“No it’s just, why would you have to go out to the kitchen to get Cas’ help when he’s usua-”

In the brief moment that Sam’s eyes flicked to glance at Castiel, fear filled his body and he shut up. Immediately. Cas was staring daggers at him, his lips pursed so tight and face so red he thought the angel might pass out.

Dean was oblivious as he took a sip of coffee as Sam covered, “-when he’s usually in the living room?”

The tension in Cas’ face fell away and he laughed, “I...I was stealing some of Dean’s cookie shaped cereal.”

Dean stopped sipping and glared at Cas, “Hey. Those are mine. Keep out!”

Castiel laughed, and soon Sam and Dean were joining him. The morning meandered on and then the day, Sam checking for cases, Dean heading to the garage to clean Baby, Castiel watching a show on Netflix he had come to love when he was human, and as quickly as it had left, darkness returned to the sky.

Castiel kept up his usual nighttime routine-- seeing Sam off to bed, drinking a finger, or two, of whiskey with Dean, walking him to his room and turning away as the door shut. It had been a good day, maybe Dean had removed the warding. An angel could hope, couldn’t he?

At that, in denial about the weakness his body felt being so close to Dean's room, he threw his angelic body at the walls, but he hit warding again, his whole existence feeling like it was on fire. He felt like a Finch, running into a window over and over again, not understanding that its tiny body can’t break the glass.

Castiel eased back into the world once more, his vessel shaking and his head pounding. He didn't sit in the hall this time, the warding was interfering with him and he needed to be as far away from it as possible. He found himself in the living room, just in case Dean woke again.

Castiel sat on the couch and sighed, he never should have told Sam about the whole “watching over Dean in his sleep” thing, but a moment of weakness had pulled it from his lips. Sam had looked at him no different, just nodded understandingly. Sam had even thanked him, said the nights Dean slept the best were his best nights too. Castiel hadn’t felt bad about what he was doing then, he had Sam’s approval, something he knew was one of the most important things to Dean.

But now, Dean had shut him out and Cas had a feeling that no one in the bunker was going to be sleeping very well so long as that warding was up.

That night, Dean sulked into the living room, asked Cas to do the angel thing, and left again.

This continued for many nights when they were home at the bunker and not out on a hunt. Dean would enter, disheveled and broken, and Cas would help give him a good memory, a peaceful dream. Castiel could put whatever he wanted to into the implanted dreams, but he never put himself. He always put Dean and Lisa, or Dean and some woman he had been staring at on the side of his beer label. He gave him warm sunny days and domestic life and fishing trips. He gave him cozy mornings spent under blankets and waking up next to the love of his life. It was draining to give so much to Dean without anything in return, but each day, he took the time to recharge, and each night he would pour as much as he could into those dreams. He attempted to make them last longer, even just a little bit. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. He’d always get a sleepy morning report from Dean and he’d spend the day trying to figure out where he went wrong.

In the mornings, before Dean would wake, Sam would try to question Cas about why he’d stopped watching Dean, but Cas would maneuver his way out of the conversation or say something like “He doesn’t approve. You know that.” and Sam would nod, unsure if he really believed Castiel’s reasonings.

It was Friday, a few weeks since the warding first appeared when Cas made a mistake. In the dark of the bunker, Dean did his usual shuffle to find him. It was normal, as normal as an angel helping a human sleep could be. Dean’s eyes closed delicately, as he placed himself in front of Cas, not even bothering to ask for help. It was an unspoken agreement at this point. Upon the closing of Dean’s eyes, Castiel instinctually placed his fingertips around the hunter’s head. He began implanting a memory of flower fields and a picnic set up under an apple tree. He saw the bees and the flowers and he made sure to stock the basket with pie and beer. He could almost feel the warm sun himself, and _then_ he started to drift.

He didn’t mean to, but suddenly he was lost in his own daydream, imagining him and Dean on that picnic. They sat on the flannel blanket as Castiel weaved Dean a flower crown of daisies and forget-me-nots and baby’s breath and placed it ever so gently on his head. Dean blushed when he did so, green eyes smiling into his own. Castiel’s fingers lingered on the crown before he went to fix Dean’s hair underneath it. When the tufts of Dean’s hair were tucked and tame amidst the circle of flowers, the back of one of Castiel’s fingers brushed up against Dean’s temple, tender and soft. He could feel the soft of Dean’s baby hairs there and he let his eyes drift to Dean’s lips, then meeting back up to his eyes. Dean’s smile was so fond, Cas couldn’t resist leaning in and- _Fuck!_

Castiel immediately pulled his fingers away from Dean's head and watched as Dean’s eyes opened. The dream wouldn’t reach Dean until he fell asleep, and he had no way to know that Castiel was actually handcrafting each of the dreams he’d been given, but that crossed a line. Castiel would know exactly what Dean had dreamed the night before.

How would he seem? Would he be angry? Embarrassed? Ward the whole god damn bunker and kick him out? Castiel was spiraling, not aware that he was still staring at Dean until he heard the soft clearing of a throat and his eyes came back into focus. “Shit. Sorry.”

“You okay? You look spooked.” Dean said softly, putting his hand on Cas’ shoulder.

He blinked and swallowed, ignoring the sunshine and flowers he saw behind his eyelids when he felt Dean’s touch.

“Sleep well, Dean.”

With a quick squeeze of his shoulder, a blink of sadness flashing over his face, Dean was up to standing in no time and retreating back to his room, “‘Course, Cas. Night.”

When Dean was out of sight, the angel collapsed back into the couch where he was sitting and closed his eyes. Despite his best efforts, his thoughts betrayed him and drifted back to the world where he and Dean were happy and carefree and so close he could feel Dean’s breath on his nose.

The slight tickle of flowers reached Castiel’s forehead as he leaned in and stroked his thumb over Dean’s cheek. Like Castiel had seen so many times, Dean’s eyes fluttered closed, except this time, it was not for sleep. A whisper of soft, pink lips ghosted over his and disappeared. They were still so close, and Dean’s own hand made it up to gently fold around the nape of Castiel’s neck, stroking through the hair there. The ghost of his lips returned, except this time, Castiel pressed into it. He let the sweet smell of honey coming from Dean’s soul wrap around him as he moved slowly with his movements, treating Dean like he was moments away from being broken.

He wasn’t sure anyone had ever cared for Dean in such a gentle way, but he deserved it, to be cherished, loved-- held. At that, the two parted, a daisy from the crown found its way to sit over Dean’s left eyebrow and pulled the rest of the crown a bit off kilter with it. Cas straightened the crown and smiled.

When the sun rose, all of the daydreaming in the world could not keep him calm. His angelic energy vibrated inside of his vessel and his nerves were lighting up like a Christmas tree. To say the least, Castiel was terrified.

Wishing to set his mind on literally anything else, he busied himself with brewing the coffee and cleaning out the kitchen. In the fridge, an old hamburger from two weeks ago was still sitting on the top shelf and an empty milk carton was stuck in the door. He threw them out and then got to work shining the countertops and sweeping the floor. At the commotion, Sam entered the kitchen, looking confused, but was relieved to see it was just Cas.

“Mornin’”

“Hello, Sam.”

“So, why’re you going all Mary Kondo over the place?”

Castiel tilted his head at the reference, not understanding, and Sam shook his head, turning to fill his mug.

“Cas, what’s been up with you. Ever since all this stuff with Dean-”

A tired looking Dean entered at that moment and moved to stand by Sam at the coffee counter, and with smirk he said, “What stuff with Dean? Anything juicy?”

Castiel could tell he was covering up his discomfort with his humor, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was too afraid of what would happen if he pointed it out and caused him to explode right then and there.

Sam just raised his eyebrows and coughed, “Nothing. Just talking about the dream implantations. How do those seem to be working?”

The mug that had been in Dean’s hand was suddenly being set with fervor onto the counter as he gripped it like it was the last anchor holding him on this earth, “They’re fine, Sam. They help.”

Castiel decided to play like he didn’t know exactly why Dean was so tense. “Did something happen, Dean?” his low voice rumbling like gravel, “I can try to fix what happened if you tell me what needs to be altered.”

Dean’s grip on his mug loosened and he resumed filling it with the dark, black liquid as he brushed it off, speaking nonchalantly, “Nah, all good buddy.”

Cas just trembled ever so slightly and left the room. Maybe if he avoided Dean, the inevitable could never happen. He would just resolve to never speak to Dean again, piece of cake. And completely reasonable. Definitely reasonable. Right.

Cas wandered the halls of the bunker and took a look into some of the rooms he had never bothered to look at. He even went outside and explored the forest around the bunker in silence. From the top of the hill that was built over them, he could see a field of flowers in the distance. It called his name, so he flew to it.

He looked through the flora that sat in the ground. All of his favourites surrounded him and tickled his ankles. Bees flew past like angels, working for the good of their hive, their heaven. He turned his face to the sun and closed his eyes, letting his body enjoy the warmth and the serenity that the star fed to him.

He felt like a flower in that moment. He was feeding off of the sun, digging his feet into the soft dirt below him, letting his hair go wild in the wind like petals. He stood there entirely too long, and by the time his eyes opened, it was sunset. He flew back to the bunker and entered through the front door, sneaking down to the guest room where he resolved he would stay until he suspected Dean was in bed.

At half past midnight, tired of stewing alone in such a small space, Castiel emerged from the guest room and made his way to the kitchen. As he walked towards it, he noticed Dean, hunched over a table in the library.

Castiel sighed, no amount of sneaking could successfully get him past Dean without notice, so he pulled up a chair beside Dean and sat.

“Need another dream implant?” Castiel asked hesitantly, considering the circumstances.

Dean looked over at the angel with sad eyes, a glimmer of hope twinkling in the green, “ Cas, you don’t..you don’t make the memories, do you?”

Castiel shook his head, “No,” he replied softly, seething at himself for how smooth the lie tasted, “just put your mind in a state ready to receive the good dreams and block out the bad.”

The hope that he had seen on Deans face flickered out like a light and he looked down at his hands which were fidgeting in front of him on the glossy, wood table, “So...nothing I’ve seen is like, from you?”

Castiel’s breath was shaky. If he admitted to it, Dean would run him out, blame him for invading his mind, going to places he was never meant to. If he didn’t admit it, Dean would let him stay. Those were the two possibilities in Castiel’s mind considering his past experience with Dean, and he would rather live a thousand lives with Dean by his side, oblivious, than one where Dean _knew_ and didn’t want him. “No. Is everything all right?”

Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “Yeah, just wished the dreams lasted all night. Wish the nightmares didn’t return so quickly.”

“You know you can always come back out here when you wake back up.”

Dean seemed nervous as he contemplated something, his top teeth rolling his bottom lip in concentration, “Why don’t you just,” he took in a shallow breath, “stay in my room?”

Of everything Castiel was expecting it was not that. The air rushed from his lungs as he stared, perplexed, at the green-eyed man who sat before him.

In the silence, Castiel could hear Dean’s heart rate quicken, “Look, I know it’s a lot to ask, but there’s a comfy chair in the corner and I dunno, Cas. I just. I really want to sleep, man. Just one good night of sleep, you keeping my mind ‘open’ or whatever, and then you never have to again. I know it’s a lot. I know. But it’ll give you something to do I guess, instead of wander out here all night.” Dean looked dazed, unsure himself why he had felt the need to beg, “Please?”

Castiel only hardened his face at this. He couldn’t let his emotions show. Even then, tears were threatening to escape from his blue eyes. How could Dean be so cruel when he had never known the man to be as such? Dean knew Castiel was an angel, and he didn’t want angels watching over him. That was abundantly clear based on the warding that locked off his room.

Mustering all of his strength to avoid his voice cracking, Castiel spoke low and slow, “You know I can’t do that, Dean.”

Dean’s eyes widened at the rejection.

“What do you mean? You used to, you know, watch over me, and I know I asked you to stop, but I need you, man. I need you tonight.” His eyes were pleading and turning red with frustrated tears and Castiel couldn’t understand what was happening.

His eyebrows knitted together and he looked away from Dean, “But...but what about the warding?”

At this, Dean was pulled out of his emotions, “What warding?”

“The warding.” Castiel spoke through a clenched jaw. When reiteration didn’t seem to jog Dean’s memory, he continued, “The angel proofing. The sigil that keeps me out of your room. I can’t come to your room Dean, that’s clear. So why are you asking me now? Is this some kind of cruel punishment?”

Dean just stood and called out in a gruff tone, “Sammy!” as he exited the room, “Sam!” he could hear as Dean went knocking on the younger Winchester’s door. Castiel followed hesitantly, not too close, but not wanting to be left behind for whatever was happening in this moment.

A light flicked on and the sliver of it shone from the bottom of Sam’s closed door. When Sam opened the door looking baffled and exhausted, he pulled a shirt over his head.

“Dean, what the hell man? It’s like one in the morning.”

“Yeah, yeah, come on. Follow. Need your help explaining.” Sam shot Castiel a glance but Cas just raised his shoulders in confused solidarity.

When they reached Dean’s room, Castiel sighed.

“Get in there, Cas.” Dean said sternly.

“What?”

“Go into my room, right now.”

“You know I can’t Dean.”

In bit more of a light tone, “Yes you can, you idiot. Walk into my room.” He clapped a hand on the back of his angel’s shoulder and encouraged him on.

Cas took a deep breath and stepped forward into the doorway, fully bracing himself for the pain to hit but it never came. He carefully opened one of his eyes that had been squeezed shut and, when realized he was in Dean’s room, he turned around, shocked.

“How-”

Sam just shook his head at Cas, “Dean and I decided we should put some sort of spiritual proofing in our rooms. The sigils keep out demons, ghosts-- angels-- but we put an exception into the angel one and made it so that, _if_ an angel has a vessel, it can enter. You can’t get through unless you’re in your vessel on this plane of existence.”

Dean looked down at his toes, presumably piecing something together as Castiel looked at Sam in bewilderment.

Sam stepped into the room with caution, putting a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, “After what happened to Nick, we thought it would be smart to have warding keeping angels from coming into our rooms in search of vessels. They can be deceiving and we didn’t want to risk one of us saying ‘yes’ after everything that’s happened.”

Castiel just looked stunned and impulsively stepped forward to hug Sam, his soft, “That’s very smart, Sam” getting lost in the fabric of the cotton shirt he was pressed up against.

Then Dean was clearing his throat and looking at Cas and Sam from the doorway, his thumb pulsing on the side of index finger, “Sam, give us a minute?”

“Is it, uh, alright if I just head back to bed?”

“Sure. Yeah. Course. Thanks, Sam.” Dean said, his voice stilted as Sam passed him in the doorway.

Dean waited just a moment before entering the room fully, and quietly closing the door. He walked up to Cas and stared into his eyes, “Care to explain yourself?”

Cas’ eyes squinted a little, “Me?”

“Cas, an angel would only know about the warding if they tried to get in by flight.”

Cas quirked his head to the side and Dean rolled his eyes.

“ _You_ know about the warding. So...”

“Oh, right.” Cas let out a breath and sat himself down in the chair in the corner, rubbing his hands along the arms, “I know this chair very well.”

Dean shook his head for Castiel to continue.

“There have been many nights, Dean, that you would have not made it through without me.”

Dean let out a breath and closed his eyes.

“I know you told me so long ago not to watch you sleep, and I wouldn’t, I would watch your dreams. Filter out the bad, replace it with peace. I never saw anything inherently wrong with watching over you.”

“Except that I asked you not to.” Dean’s voice came out curt and deep.

Castiel licked his lips quickly and let his hands grip more tightly on the arms of the chair, “Yes. And yet, what was it tonight that you were begging me to do? You _need_ me to watch over you Dean, whether you like it or not.”

Dean’s face softened and he let himself move to lie down on his bed.

Cas watched as Dean’s chest rose and fell with each breath. Dean was just staring at the concrete ceiling above him.

“The dream implants. Were those really just objective. Or were they you?”

The angel sighed in his place, “I constructed them. Yes.”

In a voice, betrayed and soft, Dean said up to the ceiling, “Why did you lie to me earlier?”

“Because I know what you dreamed of last night, and it was a mistake. I was afraid.”

“Why are you afraid of me, Cas?”

“Not of you, of myself. Of how much I care for you. And losing that, losing _you_ , like I thought I had after the angel proofing, isn’t something I can endure.”

Dean put one of his hands up behind his head as he tilted to look at the angel in the chair by his bedside. He was so human, so vulnerable. He thought Dean smelled like honey and was worthy of flower crowns. Dean’s heart fluttered at the sentiment and continued staring until Cas’ eyes met his.

It was almost inaudible, but Dean whispered, “Help me dream again tonight.”

Castiel heard and sighed in relief, his human so small and soft and broken lying on the bed before him. He stood and turned off the light, sitting on the bed next to Dean.

He rubbed his fingers together and the glow from them illuminated the highlights of Dean’s face and sparkled against his green eyes, which, heavy with sleep, closed to reveal half moons of thick, shining, lashes.

 _He looks like an angel._ Castiel smiled at the thought.

When he finally let himself move to place his fingers over Dean’s head, he sent a simple dream to Dean, one easier to construct since it was not from scratch or fantasy.

It was a dream of a profound bond formed in the pits of hell. A dream of green eyes meeting blue ones. Of “I _need_ you’s” and “I _love_ you’s” and the joys of being reunited. It was enough of a dream to last Dean the night, the whole night, and Cas poured his spirit into it, perfected it and ended it with a simple message for Dean, one that would reach him just before his eyes would flicker awake in the morning.

_“I love you. Only you.”_

When Castiel had finished his work, and Dean was lying still in his bed, unaffected by the nightmares of his own memories, Castiel took up his post once more at the chair beside his human’s bed and watched him sleep.

Through his breath escaped one last sentence:

“Angels are watching over you, Dean.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
